


how to ask a girl out: a guide interfered with by alice woodward

by exactlyemma



Series: happy(ish) paulkins [4]
Category: Hatchetfield Universe - Team StarKid
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - No Apotheosis, Alternate Universe - No Wiggly (Black Friday), Coffee Shops, F/M, but that's just how tgwdlm is, its merely mentioned, theres also some deb/alice but not enough to tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:08:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28462161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exactlyemma/pseuds/exactlyemma
Summary: Paul's coworkers and niece think he doesn't know how to flirt. Paul would beg to differ. He just liked to take things slow. If slow meant 'he learned her name after a month only because she told him what it was'. Most everyone seems to think that translates to 'no flirting'. He just needed to get his act together. Easier said than done.
Relationships: Paul Matthews/Emma Perkins
Series: happy(ish) paulkins [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2040001
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24





	how to ask a girl out: a guide interfered with by alice woodward

**Author's Note:**

> prequel to my previous paulkins oneshots. same universe, earlier in time. can stand alone, you don't have to read the others to enjoy this.

Daily trips for coffee weren’t unusual. Paul wasn’t the only American with a caffeine addiction, he knew. He just might have been the only American with a seeming addiction for getting bad coffee in exchange for a small interaction with a pretty barista.

He’d been going for more than a month the first time she talked to him. Really talked to him. About more than “Hi, what can I get you?” and naming the price of his black coffee. It had little to do with himself and more that she was having a bad day and he was the nearest thing to vent to, but Paul couldn’t have cared less. Because she was talking to him and sure it was a rant about singing and annoying co-workers, but Paul honestly didn’t care because she was saying it all to him. And she was smiling when he chimed in in an agreeable tone and she was so animated when she talked and he’d never seen her like this before. It was very attractive, and Paul couldn’t bite back the massive smile as she talked about Zoey and shitty productions of _Godspell_.

She’d seemed so excited when Paul said he’d seen it, and agreed that it sucked. He probably laughed too hard at her joke, but then she listened when he said he didn’t like musicals, and didn’t get all appalled and defensive like most people did. She’d just raised her eyebrows and nodded, probably surprised that Paul could talk without fumbling over himself, something he tended to do in the presence of beautiful people like her. Her brows had furrowed when he explained that all the singing and dancing made him uncomfortable.

“Well, then, why’d you come to the singing coffee shop?” She asked, holding out his coffee, an expression torn between teasing and genuine curiosity on her face. “You know there’s a Starbucks right across the street?”

“Oh, well, you know.” Paul took his coffee, his internal panic dialing up. “Some things are worth it.”

She scrunched her nose at him, like she couldn’t possibly imagine why somebody would want to come see her everyday. If only she knew.

“Like,” he said, mostly to stop himself from spitting out exactly why he came every day as he took a sip, “damn good coffee.” He finished off the truly awkward sentence with a thumbs up.

She took it in stride, returning his thumbs up, still looking a little confused. 

“I see you in here all the time, don’t I?” So that’s why she was looking at him like that. “What’s your name?”

“Paul.” It was all he could manage because his heart was pounding and he was pretty sure he was going to pass out because _she was talking to him_. 

“Hi, Paul,” she said, finally smiling. “I’m Emma.”

Emma. Emma! She had a name! She had a wonderful name! 

Paul had never been particularly fond of the name _Emma_. Now, on the other hand… Paul couldn’t imagine any better name. Of course she was named Emma. What else would she be called? Emma. It was perfect.

Paul was pretty sure he was going to have to use the word Emma in every sentence he ever spoke from then on. 

Their conversation was interrupted by that rude customer wanting their hot chocolate, and Paul left Emma to her day, but he was pretty sure his own day had just been made. Scratch that. His day hadn’t been made. This made his week, his _month_. The pretty barista, the _Latte Hottay_ , if Ted had his way, was named Emma.

The taste of the truly terrible coffee was tainted by the fact that Emma had made it, and Paul no longer noticed the shit quality.

He returned the next day without a second thought, excited by the previous day’s success. First he’d learned she was named Emma, who knew what might follow? 

Upon entry, he scanned the small shop for Emma, and found her standing behind the counter, slouched and looking as uninterested as always. He liked to think that her eyes lit up when she saw him in line, but that very well could have been his imagination. Or she’d seen or thought of something else that was the cause of her apparent excitement. There were a great many explanations, and Paul concluded that it was very unlikely he was the reason behind it. Emma probably didn’t even remember his name.

“Black Coffee Paul!” she said when he got to the front of the line, breaking into a smile. “The usual?”

Okay, maybe she did.

He smiled in return, half out of relief that she actually remembered his name. Half in shock of the implications. Because maybe she cared. Remembering sort of implied that she cared, didn’t it?

She’d also never called his black coffee a ‘usual’ before, although, going off the fact that he’d never ordered anything else, it wasn’t inaccurate. It was just new, and it made Paul’s insides dance. 

He said yes he did want the usual and asked how today was going, since he really wanted to get her talking again, mostly to hear the sound of her voice. Thankfully, it seemed that she had another rant prepared, this time about singing. Paul paid a little bit of attention, mostly he smiled as she talked, lost in the sound of her voice.

Then the annoying co-workers she’d been talking about the day before ran out of the back room with the insistence that they’d been tipped, which warranted a performance of the tip song Emma had spent all morning agonizing over.

He still hadn’t gotten his coffee, so Paul let himself be pushed by the crowd to the wall as Emma and the other two--Norah and Zoey?--as one of them hit play on a track on their phone.

Paul soon concluded that, however uncomfortable musicals may have been, he minded watching Emma sing and dance a little bit less than he minded watching other people do it. He soon got his coffee and left, the song they’d been singing bouncing around his head as he went.

In the days that followed, he heard the song more times than he could count, and he started preparing his tip in advance so he could slip it into Emma’s hand when she handed him his coffee, just to prevent her from having to perform it one more time.

Ted, unfortunately, got no more used to Paul going to Beanie’s every day, and seemed to take eternal enjoyment in Paul’s struggling.

“How’s the Latte Hottay today?” He asked, elbowing Paul in the side, nearly causing him to spill his coffee.

“Her name’s Emma,” Paul muttered, on his phone and mostly trying to schedule his next therapy appointment.

Ted froze. “Hold on, you actually worked up the nerve to ask this lady what her name was? You? Paul _fucking_ Matthews asked a girl for her number?”

Paul flushed under Ted’s attentive eye. “No.”

“Well then how in the name of God did you ever work it out?”

“She told me,” Paul said, walking away from Ted and towards his desk to no avail, as it seemed that while Ted was not willing to get up to go get his own coffee, he was perfectly willing to get up to bother Paul some more. “When we were talking last week.”

“You’ve spoken to her for more than just to order?” Ted asked incredulously.

“Yeah,” Paul said, unsure of why this was such a big deal. “What? Why are you looking at me like that? I can talk to hot girls.”

Ted scoffed.

“You really can’t Paul,” Melissa said, looking up from her computer, her expression apologetic. “Remember that intern at the holiday party last year?”

“The one who got fired for drug usage,” Paul muttered, a half protest.

Melissa’s lips spread into a grin at Paul’s argument. “Before that, when you tried to go and talk to her six times before giving up?”

Paul sighed. He sighed because he remembered it. He remembered it all too well. He remembered seeing her for the first time, he remembered all six times he’d walked up to her, only to turn away. He remembered the day she’d emptied her desk and left, still without exchanging a word. He could remember at least four instances when it had happened again, all with other girls when his coworkers hadn’t been there.

“I’m not saying you’re a bad guy, Paul,” Melissa said, pushing her glasses up her nose. “You’re just a really bad flirter in the sense of… you don’t flirt at all.”

Ted made a noncommittal noise when Melissa said he wasn’t a bad guy, and Paul glared in response. “I will ask her out,” he said. “I’m just… taking it slow.”

Ted snickered. “If by slow you mean, ‘it’s been a month and I finally learned her name’, I can’t wait to see how long it takes you to get her number.”

Melissa tutted disapprovingly. “You haven’t even gotten her number yet?”

Paul sat down, putting his coffee down with a final clunk and opened his computer back up, fixing his gaze on the screen and refusing to look at either of his coworkers, who soon dispersed, Ted walking back to his desk, smug and satisfied with his torturing of Paul for the day, Melissa with a sigh and a shake of her head.

Paul had almost gotten through the rest of the long work day when Bill pulled him aside.

“Hey, Paul, can I ask you a favor?”

Paul shrugged. “Sure, Bill.” 

Bill had been a good friend and mentor over the years. Paul could probably handle whatever it was Bill needed, as long as he didn’t want to go see _Mamma Mia!_ again. Paul didn’t think he’d be able to say no to that again, especially if Bill played the ‘but Alice would think it’s so cool!’ card.

“Thanks, Paul. So, I got an early meeting tomorrow, but Alice is staying with me, do you think you could bring her to school?”

Paul mentally ran through his calendar. He had no conflicting arrangements to reschedule. “Sure, Bill. What time should I pick her up?”

And so Paul picked up his adoptive-niece the next morning. She got into the car the next morning, shooting him a grin and exchanging texts with someone who was very good at making her smile.

“Who’re you talking to?” He asked, giving her a quizzical half-smile at a red light.

“Oh. Um.” Alice looked down at the floor, unresponsive this time when her phone buzzed. “My girlfriend. Deb.”

Ah. _Deb_. Paul had heard much about Deb from Bill. He’d never realized before that Alice liked women.

He smiled. “Cool. You wanna stop at Beanies?”

Alice glanced at him once before looking back at the floor. “You’re not… mad?”

“What, that you like girls?”

Alice nodded.

“Nah. People who do are assholes.”

Alice looked at him, the beginnings of a smile on her lips. “That makes a lot of people assholes.”

Paul nodded. “Sadly. Do I get to meet Deb?”

Alice giggled and picked her phone back up, responding to whatever the text was. “Maybe.”

He’d take what he could get.

“My offer still stands.”

She raised her eyebrows.

“Beanies?”

Alice grinned, and nodded. To Beanies it was.

“Word on the street says you’ve got a massive crush on one of the baristas,” Alice whispered as they got in line. “And by word on the street I mean my dad. Truth?”

Paul’s eyes widened. “How’d he know that?”

“Apparently your Latte Hottay drama is the latest office soap opera,” Alice said, a twinkle in her eye. “I’m gonna assume your response means it is true.”

Paul sighed as they moved up a spot in line. This office soap opera was news to him. He knew that Ted had some weird interest in his love life, and others would occasionally get involved to tease him, but he hadn’t realized the ties went beyond that.

Emma grinning and greeting him, “Black Coffee Paul!” excitedly as she usually did nothing in his defense, and had Alice elbowing him, a gleeful grin on her face.

“You’ve got it so bad,” she whispered, delighted, after Paul had stuttered that he did want his usual, please.

“I do not have it bad,” Paul insisted, fishing around his wallet for a sufficient tip. “I found out her name is Emma a few weeks ago.”

Alice gaped. “Her name? That’s how far behind you are?”

“I am not far behind,” Paul said, but Alice was gone, walking over to the station for people to put sugar and milk into their drinks, and was back a moment later with a napkin. Paul picked up one of the pens people used to sign their receipts and pretended to examine it as Emma cast a glance his way, only to have Alice snatch it out of his hand, with a muttered, “Give me that.”

She uncapped it and looked at Paul expectantly, her hand poised over the napkin. “What’s your phone number?”

Paul spluttered. “My phone number?”

Alice groaned. “Why must I do everything myself?” She pulled her phone out of her pocket and opened up her contact for him, which read ‘uncle paul’ with several emojis, including the cool emoji wearing sunglasses, and that subsided Paul’s rage somewhat, but he was still puzzled as to exactly what her plan was.

Until Emma walked over with his coffee and handed it to him with a smile, and Alice shoved the napkin into her hand. She looked down at it in confusion, and was opening her mouth when Alice started talking.

“That’s his number,” she said, as if that was all that was needed. “You should text him sometime.”

Emma stared at the napkin a moment more, a smile slowly spreading across her face. She folded it carefully in half and pocketed it. She turned to Alice, the smile still present. “Can I get you anything?”

Alice placed her order and Emma set off to making it, leaving Paul to turn pink and splutter at Alice alone.

“What the fuck did you do?” he finally got out.

Alice rolled her eyes, putting the pen back in the mug. “I got you your girl, Uncle Paul. You should be thanking me.”

He sighed in resignation, running a hand through his hair. “I definitely need to meet Deb, now, I’m just saying. I’ve earned it.”

“That can be arranged.” Alice gasped, and grabbed onto Paul’s arm. “We can go on a double date!”

“She hasn’t even gone out with me once normally,” Paul protested, already dreading having to give Alice weekly updates on his love life.

Alice acted as if she hadn’t heard him. “Ugh, this is so exciting. You’re going to get married, and it’s all thanks to me.”

Paul buried his face in his hands. “You’re not going to lay off about this, are you?”

“Nope.” Alice put an arm over Paul’s shoulder. That was another thing about her growing up he still wasn’t used to. She was tall enough to comfortably put an arm over his shoulder. “Paul, if she doesn’t have any better candidates on her side of the family, can I be the flower girl at your wedding?”

“Oh, God,” Paul said, not daring to look up lest Alice see how red his face was. “For the final time, Emma and I just met, hell, you just have her my number! We will not be getting married any time soon.”

Paul heard Alice beginning to laugh, just as he heard, “Um, your drink is ready?” Paul peeked through his hands just in time to see Alice taking her drink from a confused-looking but smiling Emma. She poked the arms that were covering his face. “You okay in there?”

“He’s just mortified,” Alice said, nudging him in the side. “He’s not good at talking to girls he thinks are hot.”

Emma only raised her eyebrows. She pulled the napkin out of her pocket, and for a terrifying moment Paul thought she was going to give it back. Instead, she pointed at it and put it back. “I got this, remember? I’ve basically got no choice now. Though, I’ve gotta agree, I don’t think we’ll be getting married any time soon.”

Alice sighed in mock disappointment. “You adults, always taking things slow. Paul, do you have anything you want to say to Emma before we leave? I’m gonna be late for school.” She nudged him again, and this time Paul took the hint, putting his arms back down by his sides and giving Emma an awkward smile and a wave.

“I also don’t want to get married like, next week,” he said. He recalled the bill clenched in his fist and held out his hand, slipping it into Emma’s. Their hands brushed against each other, and the feeling was so electrifying it nearly sent Paul back into his arms to hide. He smiled at Emma once more, and she returned it.

It occurred to Paul as Alice led him out the doors that Emma hadn’t smiled much in the coffee shop when they’d first met. Was it possible he was the cause of that?

He shook off the thoughts to drive properly, wanting to get Alice to school safe without crashing. If he crashed he probably wouldn’t get Emma’s text, and he didn’t want that. He got Alice to school in Clivesdale in one piece, and even got a little shoulder squeeze as Alice left. The last thing he saw was a playful glare, as he reminded her that he got to meet Deb soon.

He smiled in response, and set off to get back to CCRP. He hadn’t stopped smiling when he had pulled into the parking lot, and it was only then that he realized that his smile had little to do with Alice, and more to do with a napkin with his number on it in a certain barista’s pocket. He’d never been so excited to get a text in his life.

It didn’t buzz for hours. Paul was sitting at his desk, going over a budget plan he’d set for any inconsistencies when it went off. Paul was confused for a moment, when he saw the number that wasn’t saved in his phone. Then he saw the texts.

_Hey_  
_If i have the right number these are going to black coffee paul_  
_Only now is it occurring to me that that girl might have been playing a joke on me_  
_Pls tell me ur black coffee paul_

It made him smile again, the first thing he’d smiled for since that morning.

“Who’s got you so far gone that you’re ignoring work?”

Ted had snuck up on him, and it was only then that Paul realized he had indeed stopped doing work to text Emma and save her contact to his phone, resisting the very strong urge to save a heart next to her name.

He shot Ted a smug grin. “Emma. We’re going out for dinner next week.” It wasn’t a lie, the texts were right there on his phone. They were seconds old, but they were there.

Ted did a double take, as well as Melissa’s head shooting towards Paul from a desk away. 

“ _What_?”

**Author's Note:**

> tgwdlm really was just a coffee shop au gone wrong to the highest degree. lang brothers saw the coffee shop au trope thought “yea we can work with that” and spat out paulkins.
> 
> alice is paul's wingwoman and i will be taking no suggestions or complaints on that.


End file.
